It all started when I was 25. My friend Praveen pointed at my temple, laughing, “Look, you’re thinning!” I stiff-armed him, but a shot of adrenaline coursed through my body. That night, I examined my hairline in the bathroom mirror. Was it happening?
Dark, curly hair was one of my defining characteristics, and all my friends would amazed with my hair. For a few days after Praveen’s comment, I was able to convince myself that it wasn’t true—he was just trying to scare me. Over time, however, it slowly became undeniable: hair clogging up the shower drain and less friction when I applied shampoo… I was balding.
If you don’t struggle with hair loss, I have two things to say:
You’re very lucky.
I curse you softly each morning when I look in the mirror.
Balding sucks. I still suffer an existential identity crisis every time I consider myself going bald. However, knowing that I was losing hair every day few realizations I’ve had through my slow, ongoing struggle with my hair loss:
1. Recognize your own mortality.
As an active, healthy, fit former athlete, noticing hair loss was pretty much the first time it really hit me that I wouldn’t live forever. Despite 25 years on a planet riddled with disease and ravaged by wildfires, I still subconsciously thought I was invincible. The realization shook me. I was actually gasp-aging.
How could my genes have betrayed me? How long until the rest of my body’s weakening faculties shut down forever like my languishing hair follicles? I stood in front of the mirror, watching a fast-forward movie of my body’s decay, my hair going from gray to white to non-existence… now it’s clear that I am balding each time I look in the mirror. It reminds me to relish my relatively youthful skin while I still have it and to explore being alive right here and now.
2. Principle of Superficiality
Sure, I know I’m vain—we all are. But losing my hair made me realize that I’m desperately in vain, almost irreparably chained to our culture’s ideals of traditional beauty. All through school and college, I was a decent-looking guy. I never modelled clothes or whatever, but my appearance gave me confidence. It countered my social anxieties and reassured my ego.
How could I face important meetings and look slick on dates with a lame buzz cut that made my ears stick out? People would see that I was weak, that I was afflicted with a glaring imperfection at the topmost point of my being! I looked at hats through store windows with new interest. I rationalized toupees: They’re the exact same thing as women’s makeup, right? It irked me. I didn’t want to live life without a perfect hairline.
The agitated thoughts made me realize the extent of my immaturity. Toupees… really? That’s where my head’s at? Acknowledging my profound vanity was necessary: a healthy first step. It’s ultimately helped me work on moving beyond the anxious state in which my self-worth hangs precariously upon an impeccable appearance.
3. Comparing yourself to others
I knew I compared myself to other people sometimes, but as I became aware of my balding, I suddenly felt physically inferior, especially living in a city like Bangalore, where everyone is so damn beautiful it hurts. I found myself giving into insecurities I hadn’t felt since school, trying to ascertain how far down the rung of appeal I was falling. The guy on the metro train—was I better- or worse-looking than him? A girl walking briskly across M G Road without noticing me—would she have looked if I’d had my college curls?
“The progression of balding is demoralizing. But is there a silver lining to a receding hairline?”
(I had never thought about hair transplant. But I don’t like balding. Honestly, It was a necessary wake-up call. With a lot of apprehensions about my hair loss problem, I started the search for the best hair loss clinics in Bangalore. Thanks to my luck, I was able to locate the best hair transplant clinic.
Brillar Clinics is the best clinic I’ve come across my research in past few months. The best dermatology clinic in Bangalore for hair loss and FUE hair transplant clinic.